


I'm Already Just a Skeleton (RAFAEL BARBA)

by RockWithItWriting



Category: Law & Order: SVU, Law & Order: Special Victims Unit RPF
Genre: Other, Trans!Reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 11:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7531864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockWithItWriting/pseuds/RockWithItWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rest in peace to the members of the trans community lost to violence, harassment and suicide.</p><p>You will be missed.</p><p>This imagine contains prevalent themes of transphobia and violence, description of an attack against a transwoman.</p><p>Please read at your own risk.</p><p>Remember the names of those passed.</p><p>Protect your fellow community members and if you aren’t a member of the LGBT community, please help us protect each other.</p><p>Remember your identity is valid and you are who you are; nobody can take that away from you.</p><p>Starts off angsty, gets really fluffy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Already Just a Skeleton (RAFAEL BARBA)

The hardest part about being trans was being targeted. Being targeted was why you were on the stand, shaking, as you tried to face down the man who beat you in an alley barely a week previous.

The bruises hadn’t even time to heal.

You were trying to stare the man down, show him that you weren’t weak and you weren’t a target and you weren’t a freak, but the fear was blurring your thoughts. But his lawyer was questioning you, making it seem like your fault with questions like: “But didn’t you choose to transition?” _(Yes.)_ and “If you chose this, why are you prosecuting this man?” _(He beat me in an alley, can’t you see that?)_

You could see the look on Mr. Barba’s face; you were losing the case. So when the defense rested, no further questions, he stood harshly, “Redirect, your honor,” He smiled softly and you looked up at the judge, trying to convey need in your eyes. She nodded and Mr. Barba approached you once more, hands crossed behind him as he tried to be as nice and soft with you as he could be.

“This can’t have been easy on you,” He observed, “Changing your whole life, being rejected by family and friends. Now the country is passing laws to force you into the men’s room when you are very clearly a woman.” You nodded and braced yourself, Mr.Barba’s words unclear to his end game, “And you chose this.”  
  
“Yes,” You finally uttered, eyes flickering over to the jury, “I did. But, in a way, it chose me.” Mr.Barba nodded and turned away from you, still talking to you but speaking to the jury.

“May I ask why you chose this, when you knew that you were going to be harassed?” The question stung and you recoiled, crossing your legs as you scoffed.

“I didn’t choose to be harassed, Mr.Barba. I chose to be who I am. I chose to be happy in my body. May I ask why you chose to become an ADA?” Mr.Barba wasn’t used to questions being tossed at him so his steps stuttered, once again turning to face you.

“It was what I’ve always wanted to do; ever since I was a child.” You nodded and leaned forward.

“Transitioning was what I’ve always wanted to do. Ever since I was child. Back when I was still identifying as a boy. I did not choose to be harassed, or beaten on the street. Did Islan Nettles, a trans woman killed on the streets of Harlem choose to be beaten even after she was unconscious? Did she choose to die because of how she lived her life? What about the teenager who identified as genderfluid and went by Kendarie and Kandice? Did they deserve to be killed because of who they were? What about Gwen Araujo, a name we’ve probably all forgotten? A name not heard since 2002?

“Men were so mad that she was still anatomically male that they beat her and choked her until she died. Those who killed her used a trans panic defense- they were so scared, so _afraid_ of who she was that they killed her. Did she ask for that?” The courtroom was near silent as your chest heaved. Everything piled out of you, all of the grief of losing your fellow community members, the blame placed upon them.

“Certainly not.” Mr.Barba said. You nodded.

“We don’t ask to be killed. I have lost sisters and brothers and siblings because of their identity. I have been dragged into an alley and beaten just because I am a woman and now I am being accused of choosing this? By accusing me of choosing this you are accusing Gwen Araujo of choosing her death, Islan Nettles choosing her death. We did not choose death, we chose happiness and those who’ve killed us and beat us and raped us and abused us have chosen to do that.

“It is not our choice that this happens to us. We cannot control what others do, Mr.Barba. You have chosen to prosecute and I have chosen to wear a dress and get surgery and take hormones and they are the same because you are happy and I am happy. James Caulfield saw me, a transgender woman, and decided to drag me into a darkened alley and beat me and threaten to kill me and tell me that I am worthless. I did not choose that, I simply chose to go out with my friends under the impression that New York was a place of _diversity_ , of love, of acceptance.

“Apparently I was wrong.” Mr.Barba seemed to ooze pride and you could see Olivia in the back nodding at you, Sonny beside her as he gave you a thumbs up.

“Nothing further, your honor.”

And as you were released from the stand you swore you saw the judge wipe a tear from her cheek.

* * *

“They’ve been out for so long,” You gasped, pacing in front of a bench. Mr.Barba stood from where he was sat next to Sonny and grasped your shoulders as you made another pass. “I don’t doubt you, Mr. Barba, I doubt the jury. I don’t have any faith in New York anymore.” He sighed and forced you to look at him with a gentle hand on your chin.

A gentle touch, and yet you flinched away from it.

“Do not lose faith in this place, or it’s people. One bad apple doesn’t ruin the bunch. There are plenty of men like James Caulfeild will try and tear you down but you are a beautiful woman and there is nothing, nothing he can do to take that away from you.” You nodded and willed yourself not to cry, not to ruin your makeup, before the jury came back. “And call me Rafael. You’re far too formal after we’ve spent so much time together preparing.”

“Okay. Thank you, Rafael.” He pulled you into a hug, smoothing down the hair on the back of your head. You relaxed and tried to breath around his scent, but there was nothing you could do to quell the shaking of your hands. Rafael’s phone rang and he pulled back, looking at the message on the screen.

“The jury is back. Let’s go.” Sonny and Liv stood, following you into the room and taking their place next to you. Rafael was on your other side and Liv slipped her hand into yours as the four of you watched the jury file in. Everything was blur, the words being spoken rushing together in your head and you didn’t even realized the verdict was guilty until cheering rushed through the courtroom and Olivia hugged you and so did Rafael and then you were crying and smiling and your stomach wasn’t heavy anymore because the man who had done that to you was going to jail and your case, the verdict you had just recieved, was going to set precedent for so many hate crimes to come and you were going to be the one who had made it possible, your testimony and the jurors were smiling at you and everything was a blur.

Eventually you were passed to your family, their arms holding you in tight embraces and then the room cleared out and you excused yourself to where Rafael was packing his briefcase.

“Rafael,” You called, drawing his attention, “Wait up, okay?” He nodded and you made your way around to the table he was standing at, nearly out of breath with cramping cheeks from smiling, “Rafael, I wanted to thank you for helping me win this trial. I don’t think we could have without you. Now there are going to be more convictions when things happen like this because this is a precedent- I read about those in high school and I never thought I was going to need it but here I am, needing it.” He grinned at you, actually grinned and nodded his head before putting down his briefcase.

“Would you like to go out for a celebratory dinner with me? My treat?” And then Rafael flushed, the back of his neck and the tops of his ears burning red as he tried to bashfully play off his eagerness in a smirk.

The question caught you off guard, though, because through the relief and happiness you hadn’t believed that you had heard him correctly. “Dinner? With you and your coworkers?”

“No,” Rafael smiled, carefully stepping around the desk toward you, “Just with me. And you, of course, if you decide to join me. I can pick you up from your apartment.” It sounded an awful lot like a date, but if you were being honest, you were down to go on a date with Rafael.

“I would be honored, Rafael.” You agreed, nodding. You stepped back, trying to keep the space between what you subconsciously perceived as a threat. Rafael looked crestfallen, if only for a moment, before he pursed his lips and nodded. You were sure he was making a mental note to keep his distance until you fully recovered because what James did to you, the bruises and cuts on your face and body, were there to remind him that a man had done that to you. He knew that you would be weary for months, but if he could help with that process… “What time would you like to pick me up?” He checked his watch with a flourish and you grinned, adrenaline still pumping through you from the win.

“Let’s say… Seven?”

* * *

“You look fine,” Your mother crowed from the couch, watching as you smoothed down your outfit, checking your makeup in the mirror. You wanted everything to be in place, your hair, your eyeliner, because a man of Rafael’s caliber should be seen with a woman of the same.

“I know I look fine, Mom. I just want to look my best for Rafael. I can’t cover the cuts on my face.” You poked at one on your cheek, pouting at her from the mirror. Your mother knew there was no comforting you because you were so picky, always thinking about transitioning and passing because you had to be the perfect woman.

You had to be.

The doorbell rang and you thought you were going to vomit, but instead you made your way over to the thin slab of wood and opened it, smile playing on your face when your eyes met Rafael’s.

“May I just say, miss, you look stunning.” He took your hand and kissed your knuckles, a flush burning bright on your face.

“You’re too kind, Rafael. We both know that cuts and bruises aren’t attractive on a woman.”  
  
“Maybe so, but does it matter? They are temporary; we both know this. Your beauty is steadfast.” Rafael was suave, turning on the charm and you felt almost blessed.

“You are really going for flattery tonight, Mr.Barba.” You said as the door closed behind you, mother giggling in the living room, “It suits you.” Rafael wrapped a hand around yours, slowly, and made sure that you were okay with him leading you down your street and to a small Italian restaurant you had only dreamed about. The place was expensive, one you couldn’t afford, but Rafael certainly could.

“Reservations for Barba,” He tapped the wood of the podium before turning to you as the teenager scurried to find his table and get it set up, “Thank you for agreeing to come out with me. If I’m being honest, I was afraid that you wouldn’t.” You followed him as the teenager came back to lead you to the back of the restaurant, hand still caught in his.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re quite a catch.” It wasn’t supposed to come out like that, but you were glad it did when Rafael tossed his head back and let out a loud laugh. As he held out your chair for you, he grinned.

“I would say the same about you, if I’m being honest.”


End file.
